


The Ballroom Blitz

by Nicholas_Lucien



Series: Songfics [2]
Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Bar Fight, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Constrained Writing, Detectives, Gen, Hunters, Police, Songfic, Vampires, fight, the raven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24711016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicholas_Lucien/pseuds/Nicholas_Lucien
Summary: What happens when vampire hypnosis begins to wear off.
Series: Songfics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580884
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	The Ballroom Blitz

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the song 'The Ballroom Blitz' by Sweet. Since lyrics cannot be posted here, you can do a search for the lyrics to find them. The title of this story comes from the song title.
> 
> I do not own these characters and is not intended to infringe upon any copyright owners. No profit is being made from this work.

“Are you ready, Steve?”

Steve finished adjusting the knobs on the recording device. “Uh-huh. It’s set-up for you now, Detective Smith.” He indicated a spot on the machine. “Just push this button when you want to start recording.”

Detective Smith nodded to show he understood, then moved aside for the audio technician to exit the room. “Andy,” he called to his partner, who was standing just outside the room.

“Yeah, Bob?”

“We’re ready in here for him.”

Andy gave a curt nod, then headed off. He found the man with Mick in the break area, holding mugs almost empty of coffee. He indicated to the uniformed officer that they were ready.

“Okay,” Mick said while reaching for the coffee pot. “Do you want a refill before going back with the Detective?” The empty mug was held out to him, and he quickly filled it back up.

Andy escorted the man to the interview room, indicating where he could sit, across from where his partner was already seated. He closed the door and stood in the corner, leaning his back against the wall.

“Alright fellas,” Bob began, “we’re ready to start taking your statement.” He indicated the recorder. “As I said before, we’ll be making a recording.” He looked at the man across from him. Marc was becoming agitated again. Usually, he would take that as a sign of hiding something, but it’s not like Marc was a suspect, Bob reminded himself. The man had come voluntarily to report something he had witnessed, though his memory of the event was not so clear. Still, Marc had insisted on reporting it and he had agreed to hear it. Bob gave a quick glance to his partner before pushing the button, and with a clicking sound, the recording started.

Marc took a deep breath, then looked at Detective Smith. “I know this is going to sound weird, and it’s hard for me to remember, but I have to tell you what I know.”

Bob nodded while reaching for his pencil to write down notes. Just the little he had already heard was odd.

“I don’t know how long ago this happened. At first, I remembered nothing, just a vague feeling that something was wrong. Then I started having dreams, and they were getting to be so strange. It was real, but not real. I couldn’t forget them during the day.” Marc took a sip of the warm coffee. He placed the mug back on the table. “Each time I thought about the dreams, I would remember something new, another piece. But it wasn’t in any logical order. Then it became harder to ignore the dream, living with it. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, obsessing about it.” Marc leaned forward, closer to the Detective. “Eventually, I was convinced this wasn’t a dream, but something that actually happened.”

“And that’s when you decided to report this event?”

“Yes,” Marc replied, emphatically nodding while leaning back into the chair. “I know it’s strange, but I have no doubt it happened. It was a crime, and I’d like to … I need to tell you everything I can remember. I think it’s really important.”

“And you’re sure this isn’t just a vivid dream?” Bob had seen his fair share of people convinced their hallucinations were reality.

“I think someone did something to me,” Marc replied, scowling, “gave me something. They wanted me to forget, but it’s coming back.”

Detective Smith reached over to his own mug of warm coffee and took a sip while jotting down a quick note to order a drug screen. It might tell him if there was any drug given to Marc, or if Marc had something currently in him. “So, tell me what you remember.”

Marc glanced at the other Detective in the corner, then back to the Detective in front of him. “I always remember this first. I don’t think it happened first, but ….” He glanced down at the table. “I see a man in the back of a dark room. He seems normal, but his eyes – they were red.”

Bob leaned forward. “Red eyes, like an albino? Red irises?” That distinctive physical feature would make identifying the person easier.

“No,” Marc slowly said while shaking his head. “Not like that. His eyes glowed red, like two suns.”

Bob quickly glanced at Andy. “Sorry, I’ll make a note of that. Please, continue.”

“Next to the man, in the corner, there is a woman. She is passionate, but people ignore her, but that is where they make their mistake – she’s one you should not dismiss.”

Bob raised an eyebrow while scribbling his notes; he definitely heard the inflection in Marc’s voice when talking about the woman. “Do you know her? Had you met her before this event?”

“I don’t think so. I think I had met her that night, when this all happened.”

Bob looked back down at his notes. He drew multiple circles around the entry for the woman. “What happened next?”

Marc rubbed his temple; his head was starting to throb again. “I hear a sound, like a crack of lightning, then immediately there are lots of other people in the room, fighting.”

“Fighting how?”

“Umm, like a bar fight, everyone just in a huge group, fighting each other.”

“So, they were not in groups?”

Marc hesitated. “Later, I remember it that way, two main groups going at each other, but at the beginning of this memory, it’s just chaos.” He closed his eyes, seeing the event happening again. “Then everything is calm; me and everyone else are sitting down, and there is music.” He opened his eyes. “There’s a live band playing, and the music is nice, and some people get up to dance and groove to the beat.”

Bob waited for Marc to continue, but the other man remained silent. “Then what happened?” he prompted.

“Then the man in the back of the room said everyone was to attack, and then they did. They were ferocious. He sounds they made … it wasn’t human.”

“Where were you doing this fight? Were you caught in it? Were you injured?”

“No, somehow I’m not in the chair anymore, but standing by the woman against the wall. I feel like I had been with her for a while, talking, but I can’t remember that.”

“Did she say anything when the fighting started?”

“She turned to me and said she wanted to warn me, that it’s going to be bad, it’s going to turn into a blitz. Then I hear the man say to attack.”

Bob paused in his writing. “I thought the man had said that before?”

Marc wrung his fingers in his lap. “I told you it’s not always in order. I heard the man say to attack, then the woman is talking to me before that attack order was said, then after that the man said it.” He brought his hand up to his forehead, pressing into it. “It’s just jumbled, and it refuses to get into order.”

“Okay,” Bob said calmly, “just take your time.” He turned to Andy. “Maybe some more coffee and a water?” His partner said nothing, just opened the door and left. The room was silent.

“People died,” Marc finally said. “I know that.”

“Who died?”

“The band.”

“How do you know?” Bob paused while Andy re-entered the room and placed a fresh mug of hot coffee down along with a cup of water. Instead of hovering in the corner, his partner sat in the chair next to him. “Marc, how do you know those people died?”

“They were on the floor, and everyone was fighting around them.”

“Maybe they got knocked out?”

“They weren’t breathing. I watched. They didn’t move or breathe.”

“Marc, how close were you to them?” Andy asked.

“Somehow, I was under a table, close to where they had been performing. Close enough to see them clearly.”

“And everyone was fighting around you?”

Marc nodded as he reached for the cup of water. He thought about the woman as he took a gulp. “She was there, next to the table, leaning down to look at me. I reached up for her, but it’s like she wasn’t there. I tried to touch her, but there was nothing, my hand touched nothing. She was a ghost.”

Andy watched Marc put down the water and then reach for the coffee. “Did something happen to her?”

“She just faded away until there was nothing left of her. I peeked out from the table and saw the man - the one with the red eyes - he looked like he was about to crack. He reached his arms upward, towards the ceiling, then he changed.”

“Changed?” Bob quizzically asked. “How, exactly?”

“He changed into a bird.”

Bob stopped writing. “A … bird?”

“Yes, then broke up into a whole flock of them. Black birds that scattered and flew away. I know,” Marc said, “this sounds crazy, and for a while I just thought it’s a dream, strange things happen in dreams, right? Then,” Marc excitedly said while rummaging in his pocket, “I found this.” He slapped a matchbook on the table.

Bob looked at the black and gold matchbook. The text said ‘Raven’ next to a black bird.

Marc poked the matchbook. “When I found this, I knew: what I remember isn’t a dream. This happened, here, at this place. The bird proves it.”

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

“So what do you think,” Bob casually asked his partner.

Andy looked through the one-way glass separating them from the interview room. Marc was still at the table, talking to the forensic psychologist.

_"And then the man in the back said for everyone to attack-”_

Andy clicked off the intercom. “Sounds like the same story.”

“Big bar fight. People dying. A man with glowing eyes that changed into an animal. I don’t recall hearing anything like that from night shift.” Bob played with the golden matchbook, flipping it around his fingers.

“I doubt that last part occurred. As for a fight and people dying, yeah, that’s believable, but who knows when this supposedly happened. Could have been a while ago.”

“Still, no reports, no missing persons who also played in a band. Nothing.”

“Except that,” Andy pointed to the matchbook in his partner’s hand. “Maybe he was at the club and someone snuck something into his drink.”

“The man?”

“Or the woman,” Andy suggested with a shrug.

“Or,” Bob said as he flicked the matchbook to his partner, “he was never there, and this is nothing more than a drug-fueled hallucination and some trash he found on the street.”

Andy caught the matchbook and scowled at it. “The Raven. Isn’t that the club Schanke is always going on about?”

Bob grinned “I heard some of the others talking about how he always wants to get in there and party.” He shook his head. “He’s too old to be hanging out in night clubs like that. And he’s got a family.”

Andy pulled back his sleeve and glanced at his watch. “But I heard his younger partner goes there a lot and night shift is about to start. We could always ask if they had heard anything about a fight and some bodies,” he suggested.

“And give the case to them?” Bob thought for a moment. “Sure, let them have this headache.”

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

“You’ve got to be joking! Why would we take it?” Don glared at Detective Smith.

“Because this is your area.”

“And what do ya mean by that?”

“What my partner means,” Andy quickly interjected, “is this might have taken place at a night club you both know ….” He paused and darted a quick glance at Detective Knight. “Well.”

Standing slightly behind Schanke in the squad room, Nick jammed his hands into his pockets and forced himself to remain outwardly calm at hearing the mention of a night club he should know. That could only mean the Raven, and he hoped it had nothing to do with what had happened there a month ago. He had taken an oath to uphold the laws and protect mortals, but there was also an older one to Janette to protect her. “We haven’t heard about any … what exactly happened? A man was drugged? That sounds more like a case for Vice than us.”

“The man tells an interesting tale, and he had this,” Bob handled the matchbook to Schanke, but it was Knight who quickly reached over and took it. “The Raven. Figured since you spend time there, you might have heard something, maybe even some talk about a few bodies, if what this guy says is true.”

“Bodies?” Schanke incredulously asked.

“Yeah, bodies. Which puts the case into Homicide. And since it happened at night, it should be night shifts’ case.”

Nick looked down at the matchbook, running his fingertips tenderly over the bird design. He needed to protect Janette. He slipped the matchbook into his pocket. “Come on, Schanke, let’s hear what the man has to say. Is he still here?”

“Oh yes, he’s still here. Didn’t want to turn that one loose.”

Nick patted Schanke on the back, helping to guide his skeptical partner to the small room attached to the interview room. Through the one-way glass he saw two men in the room sitting across from each other, and a recorder on the table. He recognized both men. “What’s Patrick doing in there?”

“We had him listen to Marc’s story in order to give us his professional opinion on the state of the man’s mind.”

“More like the guy now thinks you believe he’s crazy,” Don said, shaking his head. “Why don’t you give us your notes, get Pat outta there, and leave us to properly handle this.” He reached for the paper Bob handed over, but Knight took hold of it. “Hey!”

Nick quickly read the statement and notations while Bob and Andy left. “I can read this faster than you.”

Don held out his hand out for the papers.

Nick folded up the papers and slipped them into the inner pocket of his jacket. He had thought the hypnosis Janette and he had done would hold, and LaCroix had tested the man, but apparently the hypnosis did not hold on this one. He disliked cleaning up the Community’s problems, but this affected Janette and needed to be taken care of. He reached out to his partner, resting a calming hand while focusing on the sound of the mortal heart. “Schanke,” he softly intoned, “let me handle this case. He’s just a man really worked up about a dream. Nothing he said actually happened.”

“Just a dream.”

Nick listened to Schanke’s slowed speech and concentrated more. “No fight happened at the Raven. If there had been, we would have heard about it.”

“Didn’t happen.”

Nick dropped his hand. “It didn’t happen,” he confirmed. “I’ll explain to Marc, and close this out.”

Don nodded. “You’re handling the paperwork.”

Hearing the dulled response of Schanke’s understanding of the implanted directions caused Nick to slightly frown. Paperwork.

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

After sending Schanke off and making sure no one else was around, Nick opened the door to the interview room. Marc was still sitting at the table, the cup of water half-filled, but the coffee mug freshly refilled. He smiled as he closed the door, then pulled out the chair to sit down opposite of the mortal. “Good evening.”

“Hello,” Marc replied.

“I’m Detective Knight.”

Marc folded his arms. “Another Detective?”

Nick ran his hand across the table’s edge multiple times. “The last one, I promise.” He extended his hand along the edge one last time, then with an ease he didn’t feel, reached over to touch the recorder, pressed the eject button, and took out the cassette tape.

“Hey,” Marc said as he unfolded his arms, “that’s my statement.”

Nick slid the cassette tape into the inner pocket with the paper notes. “Yes, I’m handling the case now, so the tape comes with me.” He leaned back into the hard chair. He had to handle this delicately.

“Do you want to hear my statement?”

Nick concentrated on the rapid mortal heart rate, too fast to begin hypnotizing. He felt the vampire rising up, enticed by the rapid beat. He pushed it back down. “I have the recording and the notes written by the other Detectives you talked to.”

“So, are you guys going to do something, go over to the club or something?”

“Listen to me, Marc,” Nick gently said. “There was no fight at the night club,” he lied.

“Yes, there was,” Marc insisted. “I … I was there, I remember.” Frowning, he stared at the Detective; he seemed familiar.

“No,” Nick calmly reasserted. “No fight, and no one died,” he forced himself to say. He pushed away the memory of the staked dead vampire musicians from his mind.

“I was at the Raven.”

Nick decided to take a risk; Marc was too agitated, and he needed the hypnosis to stick this time. He placed a hand on the table surface. “So was I that night.”

Marc leaned back from the table. Now he understood why this Detective seemed familiar – he had met him before.

He heard the heart rate begin to slow down. Nick hoped telling Marc they were both there would lend more weight to the story he was about to suggest.

“Then you know what happened. You remember. You know I’m telling the truth.”

Nick dropped his gaze to the table surface. He remembered that night, the feeling of danger and fear projecting from LaCroix and Janette. He had quickly flown over to the Raven, felt the other vampires’ fear the closer he got. Into the mayhem he had gone, to help protect those he cared about from the Hunters that had found the club. “The fight wasn’t real. It was an act,” Nick said. He returned his gaze to Marc. “You didn’t see a real fight,” he intoned.

“There were people being hurt.”

“Actors in a play.”

“The audience-”

“An interactive performance with the crowd. No one was in real danger.” Nick focused on the heart rate, catching it until it beat for him, at the pace he wanted.

“How do you know that?” Marc frowned. His headache had returned.

“I was there, remember?” When Marc started to nod, Nick continued. “It was a new entertainment the club offered, one night only. You wanted to see the performance.”

“I was at the club,” Marc dully stated. The fight he saw was just part of the show. “It seemed so real.”

Nick forced himself to not be distracted. “It seemed so.”

“The woman?”

“The owner.”

Marc shook his head. “The man. The man with the red eyes.” Marc squeezed his eyes shut, the pounding of his headache much too insistent to ignore. “I saw him, and he turned into a bird. I saw that.”

“Look at me, Marc,” Nick gently prompted. He breathed a small sigh of relief when Marc did as he ordered. “That was part of a fever dream,” Nick improvised about LaCroix. “He didn’t really have red eyes. And the bird, that was from the club, your dream made that up.”

“Fever-”

“Dream,” Nick finished for Marc. “I was there that night, remember? The food was bad. Food poisoning. You ate some food and got sick. Then you had a fever dream about the play.”

“I got sick,” Marc stated.

“Yes.” Nick released his hold.

“I got sick at a performance at a club.” Marc blinked a few times and looked around the room. He reached for the cup of water and drank what remained. His pounding headache was finally retreating, and he could finally think clearer. “I’m telling you, Detective, you guys need to do something. You would not believe how sick I got and the weird dreams that happened.”

“Oh, I would,” Nick replied.

“That’s right. You said you were there too. Did you eat anything and get sick?”

“Yeah, I was a little sick that night, too.”

“There, you see, that can’t be good for the public.”

Nick nodded in agreement. “Well, we have your report and will send Heath Inspectors over to make sure everything is up to code, and they will trace any other customers that might have had a similar experience.”

Marc stood up from his chair. “Well, I wasn’t sure who to come to, but I figured the police was the best option.”

Nick also stood up and nodded. “I’m glad you found your way here.” He went over and opened the door for Marc to leave.


End file.
